


Everything You Always Wanted

by mymetalphantom



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Kink Meme, Multi, Polyamory, Prompt Fill, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymetalphantom/pseuds/mymetalphantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t ingratitude, by any means, that gave her pause; just sheer disbelief that her greatest wish had been granted.  She couldn’t help but think fate would throw a caveat at her somewhere.</p>
<p>Written for the kink meme prompt requesting Strange/Norrell/Arabella - Post-Pillar Polyamory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I wrote this one. I saw the prompt and this fic kind of leapt at me; it was so irresistible! It's been edited a bit since I posted it on the kink meme, but it was just to tidy it up and put in some things I thought of after I'd posted it.

It seemed terribly ironic that, just as Arabella Strange became accustomed to life without her husband, when the pain of his loss had faded to a dull ache, he was returned to her.  That makes her sound so dreadfully ungrateful, which she wasn’t at all.  She was so thankful, so relieved that she had wept as she had waited for Jonathan to return home and then for two hours after that, as Jonathan held her tight.  It had felt so good to hold him, to breathe him in and to look at that beautiful face with its wry grin and ridiculous nose.  It wasn’t ingratitude, by any means, that gave her pause; just sheer disbelief that her greatest wish had been granted.  She couldn’t help but think fate would throw a caveat at her somewhere.

****

Arabella had spent a year in Venice with Emma Pole and Flora Greysteel.  Flora had taken much to magic since her meeting with Jonathan and was forever asking Arabella questions about this or that, as if she had been her husband’s confidante in all things magical.  She had been disappointed when Arabella confessed that she had very much let Jonathan get on with his magic in peace.

“Oh, but weren’t you fascinated?” Flora had asked, wide eyed.  “I mean, it’s so exciting!”

Arabella had made a point to mention where this much excited had led Jonathan, and Flora, embarrassed by her own thoughtlessness, had not really bothered asking Arabella anything on the subject of magic again.  The two of them had become firm friends after that.

After a year, homesick for England and missing her brother, Arabella decided to return.  Emma and Flora had stayed in Europe and had no immediate plans to return.  It gave her great joy to think of Emma so happy and content and full of life, discovering the world with her new best friend.  After being shut away for so long, she had the whole world to explore if she wished.

But the world of England had always been enough for Arabella.

To say that she had not changed would be a lie.  No one can go through what she had been through and not change in any way.  She had always had an independent streak, but now she was as self-dependent as any woman of her station could be. 

She allowed her brother the luxury of pretending that he was looking after her.

“I was never terribly keen on Jonathan,” Henry had said to her.  “And it is just so typical of him to disappear like that.”

Arabella rolled her eyes.  “You thought Jonathan hung the moon when we were young,” she answered impatiently.  “In fact, I seem to remember a certain amount of haranguing on your part, when you were trying to get me to marry him.”

Henry blushed and Arabella was glad.  “Not that it matters anymore,” she finished spitefully, and Henry dropped the subject completely.

She felt bad afterwards, for being so harsh.  He was right in a way.  It _was_ typical of Jonathan to disappear like that.  Arabella realised she was wearing an affectionate smile as she thought about how annoyed she was that Jonathan had disappeared to God-knows-where and left her on her own.  She wondered if that meant she was mad.  She had always suspected she was a little mad, where Jonathan was concerned.

 

She had been home for three years when the shocking news came.  The news spread from town to town, each retelling slightly different from the last, but it all amounted to the same thing.  Four years after disappearing in a Pillar of Darkness, England’s foremost magicians had returned once more to England. 

The wait for Jonathan to return to Shropshire seemed longer than his disappearance and seeing him again was the sweetest joy she had ever felt.

****

As she would have anticipated, Jonathan was much changed since she last saw him.  He looked no older really (a little greyer at most), but he did not seem his usual gregarious self.  After years with just one other person for company, crowds were a bit overwhelming and the noise seemed to bother him more than it used to.

“You have to understand, Bell,” he said, “it has been four years for you, but for us…it seems so much longer.  Time moved so differently there.  The days seemed to merge into one, no day, no night.  First the clock’s stopped, then when they worked again they were…all over the place.  Every clock we had told a different time, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the time was different in every room anyway.”

Arabella had mentioned how horrible it sounded, but Jonathan had merely smiled and said, “Horrible and wonderful and frightening and exciting.”

“But you are glad to be home?” Arabella asked, worried about the overly fond expression her husband wore.

Jonathan’s smile was radiant.  “More than you will ever know,” he answered and kissed her soundly.

To be at home with her husband and kiss him and make love in their bed!  Wonderful things that she thought she would never have again.

***

There was something else wrong with Jonathan though, she observed after a month or so had passed.  Just occasionally Arabella would notice her husband staring into space and plucking at his hair, quite the way he used to when his mind was occupied by magic.  He wasn’t thinking of magic though, his face was far too glum for that.  He looked so despondent that she could hardly bear to look at him.

The grim silence in the sitting room made her ears ring.

“Please tell me what the matter is,” she implored one evening when she could no longer stand it, seeing him sitting there, staring, his book discarded on the end table.

Jonathan startled, as though he had completely forgotten she was in the room.  “Oh, nothing is the matter.”  He had never been able to lie to Arabella.  She saw through it immediately and gave him a stern look that told him, ‘you had better tell me Jonathan Strange!’  Jonathan sighed.  “I find myself missing Mr Norrell,” he confessed, then got this horrified look, as though he instantly regretted saying such a thing.

“Well of course!” Arabella said, cursing herself for being so simple-minded.  Of course he was missing him; they had spent what felt like an eternity together.  “We must invite him to stay for a while,” she announced.  The perfect solution!

Yet Jonathan looked as though she had struck him.  “That is not a good idea,” he said, picking up the book beside him and pretending to read it, not noticing that it was upside-down.

“But if you miss him so terribly it makes all the sense in the world that he should visit.”

Jonathan carried on his pretend reading, but Arabella waited before asking, “Is reading books upside-down a skill you learned in Faerie?”

Jonathan put the book on his lap and sighed.  “We agreed it would be best not to see each other for a while.”

Arabella blinked at him, confused by his words, thinking them the most absurd things she had ever heard.  “Why on earth would you agree to that?  Even before your adventure in the Pillar of Darkness he couldn’t bear to be parted from you, and you, for all your protestations, thought of him almost constantly, he was certainly the only thing you ever spoke about.”

“Bell, please don’t do this,” he said, closing his eyes, screwing them shut as though he was in pain.

“I just think you’re being ridiculous about it…”  She wasn’t sure what to say next but it didn’t matter anyway.  She was interrupted by Jonathan standing abruptly; the book dropping onto the floor with heavy thud.

“Please, do not continue,” he said sharply.  “Let us not speak of this again.”

And with that he left the room, left Arabella sitting there more confused than ever.  And more determined to get at the truth she believed was being hidden from her.


	2. The Letters

So life continued in that fashion.  They were happy, of course they were, they still had each other and that was more than either of them had expected from life.  And yet, there was this sadness that Arabella sensed in her husband that he seemed unable to shake, no matter how much he threw himself back into his old life.

They attended parties with all sorts of important and interesting people and would have the most wonderful time, but, inevitably, one of them would eventually mention Mr Norrell.  Jonathan would spin one tale or another; ‘they were still in correspondence’ or ‘he sees him frequently’, and even, once, with an airy little laugh, “We spent what felt like a hundred years together, we had become rather sick of the sight of one another!”

But then this would make Jonathan sad for the rest of the night and he would brood well into the morning as well.

Arabella was becoming more and more frustrated at him and she frequently brought up the subject of Norrell visiting them here in Shropshire.  This would lead to an argument and end in Jonathan scuttling away and hiding until he was certain she would not mention it again.

He had entirely forgotten that Arabella was not so easily deterred.

“I don’t understand why you are being so daft about this,” she said, infuriated after another similar argument.

“I am not being daft!” replied Jonathan, highly offended that she (or anyone) would think him daft.  “You are merely being quarrelsome, as usual.”

****

Jonathan once again became much sought after by various politicians, eager for him to advise them on this matter or that.  It seemed that, despite there being a wealth of people now practising magic, Jonathan was still considered a sort of elder statesman amongst magicians. 

It amused Arabella, how fickle people were.  Once the Government had completely forbidden any mention of magic in Governmental affairs, and anyone who had had any contact with magic (saving the Duke of Wellington who was a national hero and could get away with anything) was shunned.  Now that Jonathan had returned and explanations had been made, they were falling over themselves to apologise for their colleagues, explaining how they never _really_ believed that Jonathan was mad, or that he had any malicious intentions at all.

There was a rather sickening display of fawning, as Jonathan was congratulated on the part he played in bringing magic back to England (Norrell was also publically thanked, but it was announced that the older magician had retired from public life).

Jonathan for the most part seemed both pleased and faintly embarrassed by the whole thing.  Arabella had noticed that the sharp edge of Jonathan’s arrogance had been blunted during his disappearance.  She had to admit, she was rather glad of it.

He was constantly asked to lecture on his beliefs about magic, to defend and extol the virtues of Strangite magic.  Jonathan however, remained curiously vague on the subject, and never once said a word against Norrellite magic, much to the frustration of his followers.

Still, it seemed to improve Jonathan’s mood, being useful again, employed and able to throw himself back into the magic that he so loved.  He would awake in the morning with a new sense of purpose before heading off to an important meeting, or answering an urgent letter.  In the end they even made the decision to return to London, so he could be closer to the corridors of power. 

It pleased Arabella greatly, to see her husband back to his old self, running himself ragged and enjoying every moment of it.

It wasn’t until the evenings that something changed in Jonathan.  Much had been written on the subject of magic during his four years away, and he was keen to catch up on all of it, but he seemed completely unable to focus on any book that he picked up.  When Arabella looked up at him from her own reading, instead of seeing him engrossed in his, she would see him staring out the window at the darkness outside.

“Would you like me to draw the curtains,” she had said one night, thinking that maybe the darkness outside disturbed him.

“No, do not,” he replied, “I find something rather soothing about it.”  He went on to explain that in Faerie it was always dark, that it had taken him some time to get used to the sun again.  “I love to feel the sun on my face once more,” he continued, “but at night I feel rather comforted by the darkness.”

Arabella said that she understood, that Jonathan had explained it perfectly.

“Tell me what is wrong,” she said after a few minutes of looking at him, watching him stare out the window as though he had lost something out there.  “Please, I can’t bear it any longer.  You might not want to admit it, but you are very sad, and I do not want you to be sad.”

She felt like crying for him.  Indeed, she may have done.

“I would explain it if I could, but believe me when I say I can’t.”  It was honest at least.  “There are very good reasons that Norrell and I made the decision that we did.  The last thing I would want is to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?  Why would you hurt me?”  Arabella wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.  Something niggled at her from the back of her mind; a growing awareness that she felt at the base of her skull.  It felt like the answer was there but she could not quite reach it.  She had felt this before, this sensation of almost knowing something, like something you see in a dream that you can’t quite recall when waking.

Jonathan looked at her pleadingly.  “Please, Bell, ask no more.”

And after that she didn’t mention it again.

****

One day, after Jonathan had kissed her goodbye and headed to Westminster, Arabella got it into her head to read the book that Jonathan had been struggling with.  She had not taken the great interest in magic before Jonathan’s disappearance, merely kept up with the ideas her husband had like any good wife should.  Time spent alone or in the company of her friends, she had discovered her own fascination with magic increased.  Maybe she had found Flora’s enthusiasm infectious, but she had read much upon the subject and found herself quite engrossed. 

He had left the book on his desk in the study, which was littered with unanswered letters, half answered letters, answers that he had not posted, notes that he had torn up in frustration.  He really was the most untidy man.

The book was underneath a letter from the Prime Minister.  The book looked rather odd; distorted in some way.  She picked it up and only noticed the paper stuffed inside when it fell out and slid onto the desk, scattering amongst the others.  Thinking they must be notes on the book, she started to collect them all up again to put them back.  She stopped when she spied Mr Norrell’s name, written in Jonathan’s erratic scrawl.

She knew that she shouldn’t look.  Really, she shouldn’t.  They were private, hidden even.   Still it seemed entirely reasonable that she should read the notes.  Maybe they could tell her what he had been unable to.

And she was so very right.

They were not notes, however.  They were unsent letters; undated and with no address, so they were clearly never meant to be sent.  She read and reread over and over again until she was giddy.

 

_My Dear Norrell,_

_I know we said that it would be best not to contact each other, but I can’t help but regret those words with each passing day.  How I wish I could go back and unsay them.  I have a feeling that you are of the same mind._

_Life now is exactly what I wished, better even, for I find that I love Arabella as much as I ever did, if not more.  Perhaps I love her more for having missed her so dearly.  I am happy.  For the most part._

_I find that I miss you more than I can tolerate.  It makes perfect sense after all those years spent together and everything that we have been to each other that I am finding it difficult to move on with my life, to try and live as I had before._

_I love you.  And I don’t know how to live with the prospect of never seeing you again.  There, I have admitted it.  I hope that I can get some peace from having finally expressing my feelings._

_I would ask you to write back, but I know I will never post this letter._

_All my love,_

_Jonathan_

_My Dear Norrell,_

_Weeks have gone by since our return and I hope you are well.  I am still wonderfully happy at home with my wife, even though I still miss you and long to have you with me once more.  I feel so conflicted, to be at once so happy and yet so miserable.  It seems rather selfish that I should want everything, when I already have what many people do not._

_I feel horribly guilty about feeling this way.  That I have such a happy life and such love and yet I long for more.  I know it would hurt Arabella terribly if she found out that I am also in love with another, and that their absence makes me so unhappy.  I feel as though a part of me is missing and I do not have anyone to confide in._

_I think I am writing this as a way to say all the things I cannot say to you or my wife.  It must be, for I am never going to send it._

_All my love,_

_Jonathan_

 

_My Dear Norrell,_

_So many things have happened in the past two months.  I have been much in demand, quite like old times and I find that it is good to be practicing magic again, to be useful once more.  It is also good to see that even after all that has happened, my opinion is still well regarded.  I am glad to be busy._

_I find the nights intolerable.  Do you feel the same?  The darkness reminds me so much of you now, of our time together.  Time spent by candlelight, together.  I miss your closeness, the scent of you, the feel of you in my arms.  It feels scandalous to write it, and that is not even the most scandalous part!  I still feel so unfaithful, thinking of our time together when I am sat with my wife.  I do not regret anything we did, I had thought I would never see Arabella again, and my love for you is something I shall never regret._

_And a very selfish part of me is hoping that you are thinking about me too, although I cannot stand the thought of you being lonely.  I suppose I shall never know how you feel._

_All my love,_

_Jonathan_

 

There were a dozen more, all expressing the same thoughts.  Some were rather funny, like Jonathan catching up with an old friend, but most of them were decidedly romantic in nature, verging on risqué in some respects.  Certainly nothing she could have imagined Jonathan writing to his old tutor.

It started to get dark, but Arabella read, even though it strained her eyes.  There was a strange sensation in her stomach, something that resembled pain but wasn’t nearly as keen.  Something like sympathy maybe, that dull throb you feel when someone tells you a sad story.  She had known this all along.  That feeling in the back of her mind that had for some time lurked just out of her grasp, this was it.  Jonathan’s sadness, the thing he couldn’t tell her about, the thing he thought would hurt her.  This was it and deep down, she had always known it.

When she looked up from the letters she saw Jonathan standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from the hallway. 

“Oh, Jonathan.”


	3. Revelation

Jonathan had been torn between being furious at her for prying and throwing himself at her feet and begging forgiveness. The result was that he stumbled into the room, wild eyed and stammering, in a way that would have been comical if the situation had not been so serious. In the end Jonathan tripped over the edge of a rug and fell face first onto the floor.

“For goodness sake, Jonathan,” Arabella huffed, rushing to his aid. 

“What are you doing in here?” he asked as she helped him to his feet. He rubbed his nose, which had gone quite red from the impact, but thankfully was not bleeding.

“I came to borrow your book,” she replied. During Jonathan’s impromptu slapstick comedy routine, she had quite forgotten whether she had been angry with him just a moment ago or not. When she looked at the letters on the desk she remembered that she had been feeling something, but was at a loss as to what that something was.

“Why would you want to read that book?” His voice was muffled from holding his nose. “You never used to read books on magic.”

“I never used to do a lot of things before your disappearance, Jonathan,” she answered and then, with a sudden impatience swelling inside her, “and there were a great many things that you never used to do before your disappearance.”

And suddenly the conversation could no longer be put off. After months and months of artful avoidance, Jonathan Strange was going to have to confront the elephant in the room. Jonathan dropped his arms to his sides and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I had no intention of you finding anything out,” he began. “It is the last thing I wanted. Please, you must understand that I was convinced I was never going to see you again, and being all alone with just one other human person for company…”

“You fell in love,” Arabella finished for him, knowing that Jonathan would spin this tale out all night if he was given free rein to do so, and she was in no mood for it. Now that she had finally got at the truth she felt fresher, as though the house had been shut up before, and this revelation had opened all the windows. Curious, that this should feel so liberating.

Jonathan just stared at her for a moment then nodded and bowed his head morosely, like a schoolboy in front of his headmaster. “I am so sorry, Bell,” he said in a whisper. “To betray you is one thing, but this is…” he couldn’t find words to continue that sentence. “You must think me unnatural.”

Arabella found that she almost wanted to laugh and she fought to stifle it, knowing it was the very worst thing she could do at that moment. But really, for some reason she felt light inside, as though she had been filled with air and it was making her quite giddy. 

“There is something very unnatural about you, Jonathan,” she said at last, heaving a sigh. “But this is not it.” He looked at her with wild surprise and just stared at her, unblinking, looking quite deranged. “Believe it or not, I’m not angry.” 

She wasn’t. She remembered, it wasn’t anger she had felt earlier and that in itself had confused her. By rights she should feel horror and disgust and righteous anger. She knew that any number of her friends would be in floods of tears, ready to leave and never see him again, to forget that they ever knew such a person. But she remembered there were worse things in the world; true horrors, some that she had read about, some that she had been told about by her friends, and some that she had seen first-hand and still had nightmares about. There were genuine evils in the world and Jonathan, standing there desperate and sad, with his heart full of love was not one of them.

“Bell?” came Jonathan’s gentle enquiry, and she realised that she had been silent for far too long, just looking at him whilst her mind whirled.

She took his hand and smiled up at him, her eyes wet with tears that she hadn’t been aware she was shedding. “I am, however, quite angry that you would let yourself suffer like this,” she said finally. “And that you would put me through all this grief, watching you suffer, thinking that maybe you were going mad again.”

Jonathan worked his mouth, unable to form any actual words. “I, I don’t think I understand you,” he said, studying her face harder than he had studied any magical text. “Are you leaving me?”

“Well of all the silly questions!” Arabella cried. Really, he was the most ridiculous man. “Why would I leave you, when I have just read in those letters that you love me more now than you ever have done before?”

“Because of the other things I wrote in those letters,” Jonathan said, as though he thought she had somehow forgotten about them.

Arabella thought for a moment about how she felt whilst Jonathan was missing. She had agreed to enjoy her life and not mourn, and she had followed through with that agreement. She learned to love her new life, on her own, making her own way. But all that time, she still missed him. Arabella wanted her self-sufficient new life, and she wanted Jonathan both at the same time and she didn’t care how selfish that made her. She could have it now that Jonathan had returned, and she wasn’t going to throw it away; not over this.

“After everything we have been through the only thing that would make me leave is if you no longer loved me. Do you love me, Jonathan?”

“I meant every word,” he replied in earnest, his voice thick with emotion, “I love you more than ever.”

“Then I suppose that means you are stuck with me for a little while longer,” she said and reached up to kiss him. He kissed her back with so much enthusiasm that it made her head spin.

Finally he pulled away and stared at her, still wondering if she had actually understood everything that had happened. “Really, Jonathan,” she said, “those letters aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Oh, Bell,” he breathed out and hugged her so tightly she feared he would crush her. “Have I ever told you that I don’t deserve you?” he said into her shoulder as he clung on.

Arabella couldn’t help but laugh at that. “No, Jonathan. I don’t think it ever occurred to you until this moment.”


	4. Arabella's Plan

After everything had been got out in the open, it surprised Arabella that Jonathan was still adamant that he should not contact Norrell.

“I really do not mind him visiting,” Arabella had insisted, “it would be good for you to see him again.”

Jonathan looked at her in horror, as though she had grown an extra head, and that extra head was now making inappropriate suggestions.  “My darling, you really don’t know what you’re saying!”

“There you go again, assuming that I am completely ignorant of your thoughts and feelings,” she said, folding her arms across her chest in a defensive manner.  “I understand you very well, Jonathan Strange.”

Jonathan just shook his head.  “You do not understand,” he said as he gathered his papers together for his visit to the Admiralty.  “If you understood then you would know exactly why I cannot have Norrell here.”

He planted a kiss on her forehead and said his goodbyes.

“He must think I’m an absolute simpleton,” she said to the empty room.  “He still thinks that I’m the innocent young girl he married.  He’s the most infuriating…” she trailed off, looking around the room.  “And now I’m talking to myself.  Wonderful!”

****

Since her husband would not budge on this matter, Arabella, being the determined and enterprising sort, decided to take matters into her own hands.  A letter was dispatched that very day.

A week later, Gilbert Norrell stood outside their house, waiting to be admitted.

****

Arabella had been the one to greet him in the hallway.  She had quite forgotten what he looked like; all she could remember was an old fashioned wig, so she was much surprised to see that, when he politely removed his hat, he was without his wig.  In its place was his natural hair; a light brown set of short curls, as liberally streaked with grey as Jonathan’s hair.

She took in his round face and the small blue eyes that seemed set very far back in his face.  He was still as pale as ever and as plain as ever, with just a slight hint of something lurking beneath the surface of him; as though his outward appearance was superficial, merely the shell of something much darker and more interesting.

She tried to remember how much she disliked him before his disappearance.  How angry she had been about Emma’s situation, how thoroughly charmless and sly she had thought him.  Those emotions all seemed hazy now, like the memory of a headache you had a week ago.  It was as though Jonathan’s love for him had softened him in her mind.

For some reason her eyes kept wandering back to his hair.  She stared at his hair for longer than was appropriate and she could have kicked herself for being so discourteous.  Especially as it seemed to be making him very uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” she said, stepping forward to greet him properly.  “It has been such a long time since I saw you last.”

“Your letter said that there was something the matter with Mr Strange,” he said, getting straight to the heart of the matter, bypassing the meandering small talk that almost anybody with any social grace would have gone through.  That she _had_ remembered.  Perhaps all those years spent with just her husband for company had made him worse.

“Yes,” she said, gesturing towards the sitting room.  “Come, sit down and I will tell you more.”

“Is Jona…Mr Strange not home?” he asked, correcting himself, as though using his Christian name was an admission of some sort of guilt.

“He is meeting with his publisher today,” Arabella said as the two of them sat down across from each other, the table between them laid for tea.  She noticed that Mr Norrell looked alarmed at hearing that Jonathan was writing again, but he said no more about it.

She poured the tea like a good hostess, stopping only momentarily to think how fantastically odd this situation was.  Sitting down to tea with her husband’s other lover.

She looked at him, sitting there, looking smaller than she had remembered.  She could feel the same misery radiating from him that she had felt from Jonathan; worse, for Norrell was all alone.  At least Jonathan had her love to find solace in.  More than ever she felt as though she had done the right thing in bringing Mr Norrell here.

“Now, about Jonathan,” she started, handing Mr Norrell his tea.

“Yes, your letter seemed to suggest some urgency,” Mr Norrell interrupted.  “I confess, I had expected that Jon…Mr Strange would be home, perhaps ill in bed.”

“Oh, no, his malady is not physical,” Arabella clarified.  “It is his spirit I am worried about.”

Mr Norrell blinked at her.  “His spirit?”

“Yes, since his return he has seemed happy most of the time, but there is a sadness in him that I can’t explain, something that seems to be eating him up from the inside.  He will not speak to me on the subject, but I fear that there is…a piece missing from him.” 

She only felt a little guilty about lying so shamelessly.  It was, after all, in a good cause.   “I wondered if it was some magical malady, and who would be better equipped to help him with this than yourself?”

She could see in his face that Norrell was torn between being flattered and suspicious.  He had not said more than a few words to Arabella Strange in the past, and had not considered that she thought him so eminent a person.  He would be even more suspicious if he had any idea how much Arabella really knew about Jonathan’s condition.

“When you say ‘a piece missing from him’…” Norrell began but trailed off, as though he could see no end to the sentence.

“It feels as though not all of him has returned to me, I can’t quite explain it…sometimes he just seems so far away.  He gets these terribly black moods, where he just sits and stares into space, doesn’t speak a word.  Jonathan is such an energetic person usually.”

“Perhaps he has not quite recovered from his experiences in Faerie,” Norrell suggested, seeming to grow more and more uncomfortable with this conversation the longer it went on, and Arabella knew it had nothing to do with Norrell’s natural reclusiveness.  “I myself am finding it difficult to adapt to life outside the Pillar of Darkness.  As terrible as it was, it had become home.  Normality.”

“Maybe you need to share your experiences of being back home,” Arabella suggested.  “This is why I wrote to you, I thought for certain that if Jonathan was to see you again he would feel so much better.”

Norrell’s eyes went wide.  “You have not discussed this with Jonath…Mr Strange!”

Arabella blushed and fidgeted a little on the sofa.  “No.  When I mentioned that he should invite you to stay, he became very adamant that he should not.  I found that very odd.”

Mr Norrell stood up.  “Please Mrs Strange, I must go.”

“Oh, but Jonathan will be back soon,” she said, standing with him.  She nearly laughed at the look of horror on his face.  He and Jonathan really were the most hopeless pair.

She was about to say something further, to try and persuade Norrell that he should stay, when they heard the front door open and shut, and Jonathan’s voice echo around the hallway.  Mr Norrell looked about him frantically, looking for a place to hide.  He eyed the curtains for a moment, before deciding that it would not be dignified.  Arabella just rolled her eyes.

Jonathan came through the door a second later and promptly dropped all his papers as he took in the sight of Gilbert Norrell standing in his sitting room.

“Jonathan,” Arabella said cheerfully, moving to take Jonathan’s arm in her own.  “Look who has come to visit.”

Jonathan looked at Norrell, then to Arabella and then back again.  He did this a few times before he said, “Will you excuse us for just a moment,” and then practically dragged Arabella into the hallway and then across into the dining room.

“Jonathan, stop dragging me about,” Arabella complained, snatching her arm away.  “And that was a fine greeting for you to give.”

“Arabella Strange, what on earth have you done?” he asked, his voice an angry stage whisper.  He looked furious and frightened.

“I finally grew tired of your moping about, and I did what you wanted to do but were too stubborn to admit to,” she said firmly.  “You can’t live without him, Jonathan, and from the looks of him, he can’t live without you either.”

Jonathan let out a mirthless laugh.  “And what are we to do?  Have him live here with us?”

“Well, why not?”

He stared at her, nonplussed.  “Are you out of your mind?”  He was getting that wild look again.  “Arabella, you cannot possibly understand what you’re saying.”

“Oh stop it!” she finally snapped.  “Stop telling me what I do and do not understand.  I understand perfectly what this means and what I am saying.  He should come to live here, with you, with us.  Then you can be together.  It’s all very simple, why wouldn’t I be able to understand it?”

“We were lovers, Arabella, with everything that that word entails.”

Arabella just looked at him as though she hadn’t ever realised she had married such an idiot.  “Well I didn’t think you had taken up crocheting together!”  She slapped his arm lightly.  “Really, Jonathan!”

Her husband looked down at her in wonder.  And partly in fear, as though she had given him a gift that he expected to explode at any moment.  “Why are you doing this?” he asked in awe.  

“Because he is a piece of you,” she admitted.  “Maybe he always was and you just feel the loss of that piece more keenly now, maybe it was something that happened whilst you were in Faerie.  Without him you’re not my Jonathan anymore, and I want my Jonathan back.”

“Even if it means you also gain Gilbert Norrell?” Jonathan asked tentatively, wondering if Arabella had even considered this.

Arabella just smiled and nodded.  “It came as quite a surprise to me as well.”

“Oh Arabella!” he said, grinning his silly big grin that made him look like an overgrown child.  Arabella had not seen that smile in many years.

“I know,” she replied, kissing him.  “You don’t deserve me.”


	5. The Disagreeable Mr Norrell

With Arabella’s mind so set on this idea, Norrell and Strange were forced to obey, both feeling confused and vaguely terrified by the reality of this surreal situation.  Arabella overheard a conversation the two of them had while they were unpacking Mr Norrell’s possessions in the spare bedroom.

“But does she even understand the nature of our relationship?” Norrell had asked fretfully.

She could almost hear Jonathan cringing.  “Please, don’t ask her that.  You’ll regret it if you do.  Arabella understands perfectly well.”

“And is she not frightfully angry?”

“Apparently not,” Jonathan had replied.  He had accepted Arabella’s explanation of her actions, but he was still full of wonder and doubt about the whole affair.

Arabella was reminded about her own feelings about Jonathan’s return to England.  She had been so resigned to the idea that she could not have all that she desired, that when she finally got exactly that, she couldn’t help but feel there would be some stipulation to her happiness.

Well, she had been right after all.

****

Things ran very smoothly for the most part, considering the strangeness of the situation.  Things remained largely the same between Arabella and her husband, except that sometimes he came to bed with her and sometimes he did not.  She had spent many nights alone during their marriage, though, during the war and during Jonathan’s disappearance, so this was not completely disagreeable to her.  He was as attentive as he ever was before, meaning that he remembered that she was there at least sixty per cent of the time, and when he was with her he was affectionate and loving.

They still made love enthusiastically, probably more so now, as Jonathan seemed determined that he had something to make up for.  If he was going to show such a great level of devotion to her pleasure, she certainly wasn’t going to persuade him otherwise.  He could still excite her, showing as much passion for her body as he did his magic, and with the same manic energy.  Yes, she was still very satisfied where all that was concerned, and from his dopey grin, she could tell he was too.

When she was alone in bed, knowing that he was with Norrell, she wondered what he was up to.  Then she immediately stopped wondering about that, because, frankly, that was a very odd thing to be wondering about.  She would be left wondering instead what happened to the simple curate’s daughter she used to be, and found that she didn’t really miss her that much at all.

She had her new life; her loving husband, whom she cared for and attended to, and her own free time to pursue other interests.  She had joined a local group of women who met at the house of Mrs Ackland on Harley Street.  Ostensibly it was a sewing circle, but they really met to discuss the practice and theory of magic (for it was still rather frowned upon for women to take any interest in magic).  It wasn’t that she looked to make a career from magic, or even a serious hobby.  She joined because she did find magic fascinating, and she had as much right to it as any man did. Flora Greysteel would be proud of her.

She had her other life and Jonathan had his.  Against all odds, Arabella found herself remarkably content with life.

****

To say that things went completely smoothly would not be the truth however.  After all, life with Gilbert Norrell was never going to be easy.  They did not spend a lot of time together, even though they were often in the house at the same time whilst Jonathan was out and about.  He was still very private, preferring the library or the solitude of his own room.  So she only really saw him at breakfast or dinner, and even then, only if he remembered to eat.  She thought it most impolite of him, after she had asked him to live here, not to pay some attention to her, as the lady of the house.  Not that she in anyway craved his approval.  No, of course not.  What a silly suggestion.

Jonathan had warned her, of course, but she had been quite surprised to discover how disagreeable she could find him.  Several times she was left wondering what on earth Jonathan loved so much about him.

“He swears he can hear mice,” Arabella said to Jonathan as she interrupted his studies.  “In the dining room, of all places.”

Jonathan laughed softly.  “He has a particular horror of mice,” he said, not taking his eyes away from the notes he was taking.

Arabella looked at him crossly for a moment.  “There are no mice in my house, Jonathan,” she said sternly.

Jonathan finally looked up at her and smiled softly.  “I know.  He just thinks he can hear them.  He has more imagination than he gives himself credit for.  I remember once he had the servants and I take his library apart looking for non-existent mice.”  Jonathan’s expression was very fond and it annoyed Arabella intensely.

“This is not funny!” she complained, practically stamping her foot in a temper, which just made Jonathan laugh a little harder.

“He’s just getting settled, Bell,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the top of it lovingly.  “He’ll be fine once he has.”

She raised an eyebrow in doubt.

****

There were further arguments about the placement of furniture, the draught coming from under the doors, the attitude of some of the servants and the food.

“I find the food to be excellent,” Arabella had said in reply to Norrell’s complaining.

“It does not agree with me,” Norrell said, folding his arms over his chest and slumping down into his chair in a sulk.

Jonathan, who had been studiously ignoring their arguments, was now watching them with interest.

“I have yet to find anything that does agree with you,” Arabella said, making a big show of filling her mouth with the food she was so ardently defending and looking over the table in a challenge.

A certain twitchiness from Jonathan made her look over at him, and to her horror she found that he was biting the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from laughing.  Well really!  She glared at him.  She noticed that Norrell was also glaring at him.  When Jonathan realised that he was receiving twin glares across the dinner table, he almost fell off his chair laughing, alarming both of them.

****

This period of arguing seemed to be going on forever, and Arabella was nearly forced to admit that she had been wrong about this whole thing.  She had thought at first that it would be the sharing of Jonathan that she would grow to resent, that she would feel jealous on those nights when he was not with her and she knew he was with him.  She wasn’t though, which did shock her a little.

No, the problem was having to share her house!  And share her house with the most selfish and petulant man-child that she had ever encountered.  She complained to Jonathan frequently.

“You two are as quarrelsome as each other,” he had said with that same infuriating fond expression on his silly face.

“We are not alike!” she said, highly offended by the mere suggestion that they shared any character traits.

“No, not completely alike.  You’re just both very…contrary.”

Well, there was no talking to Jonathan about this!

**** 

Arabella, who had once thought it terribly bad manners to listen at doors, found herself once more listening at the door to spare bedroom.  She had been walking past when she had heard Jonathan and Norrell talking and had been so overcome with curiosity that she had paused to listen.  She wasn’t sure what she expected to hear coming from the bedroom, and she wasn’t completely certain she wanted to hear anything, but she held her breath and pressed her ear to the door anyway.

“Arabella is a wife, she takes great pride in keeping her house,” Jonathan said.  “She thinks you hate it here.”

There was a pause, and Arabella was forced to hold quite still in fear that she would make too much noise.

“I do not hate it,” Norrell admitted.  “I am very happy to be with you, Jonathan.”  Arabella felt her heart thump a little at the sound of that admission.  She didn’t know why, but there was something about those words that elated her.

“You could complain a little less,” Jonathan said, not unkindly. 

“I do not complain!”  Another pause.  “I merely make suggestions for improvements.” 

Jonathan laughed and then let out a little groan, as though he was in pain.  “My dear, you have much to learn about having a wife.” 

Arabella couldn’t stifle her gasp, but it didn’t matter, because Mr Norrell gasped at exactly the same time.

“She is not _my_ wife, Jonathan,” Norrell said, his voice strained.

Jonathan cleared his throat.  “Well, she is _a_ wife, is what I meant.  Wives keep house, and you shouldn’t argue with them.  No matter whose wife they are.”

It wasn’t the most artful of backtracks.  It was woeful, Arabella thought.   And now, both Norrell and Arabella were suddenly more aware than ever that there were three people in this marriage.


	6. Understanding

Arabella and Mr Norrell both diligently avoided each other for the next two days, even though Norrell couldn’t possibly know that Arabella had overheard the conversation he’d had with Jonathan.  It was just that when he looked at her, he thought about her being his wife and, frankly, it made him break into a cold sweat. 

Arabella on the other hand, who had thought Jonathan quite husband enough for anyone, was left reeling at the thought of having another one.

Eventually she gave herself a good talking to.  It was simply ridiculous to even think of it.  It was just one of Jonathan’s ludicrous little fancies; the sort that men with overactive imaginations were prone to having.  To her, Norrell was merely a houseguest.  The fact that he was also her husband’s lover complicated things a little, but that was nothing to do with her.  She didn’t think about that at all.

Well, she didn’t think about it _often_.  She really did try not to think about it.  Was it her fault that she had developed quite an inquiring mind?

 

So she stopped actively hiding from Norrell, walking around her own house freely for the first time in two days only to walk into the sitting room to the sight of her husband and Mr Norrell kissing quite ardently. 

The door had been unopened, so they had not heard her approach.  It was a good job that they had cast a spell to make the staff completely oblivious to the relationship between them, because any one of them could have come through that door and witnessed the kiss. 

It was eerily familiar to her, this kiss.  Jonathan was holding Norrell’s face gently, his long fingers curling around the back of his head as his mouth pressed urgently to his.  Norrell was gripping Jonathan’s coat rather furiously as his mouth was practically devoured by Jonathan.  She could almost feel it herself, as she had done many times. 

Arabella felt her heart leap and her stomach flutter, as though a hundred butterflies had been released inside her.  She felt as though her face had been set aflame and, to her great horror, she began to feel warm in other places too. 

She fled from the room, almost tripping over the first step in her rush to get upstairs.

In the safety of her own room she sat on the bed and waited for her heart to stop bouncing about in her chest.  She took a few deep breaths and resolutely did not think about what she had witnessed.

 

The problem is, one can never ‘unsee’ something.  One can only pray for some sort of selective amnesia to be possible.  The trouble with that though, is you would have to actively _want_ to forget, and, if Arabella was honest with herself, she didn’t really.

“Are you quite all right, dear,” Jonathan asked over dinner that evening, as Arabella had been unusually quiet.

She startled a little, and caught her wine glass just in time to stop it spilling.  “Yes, quite,” she answered, taking a sip of the excellent red wine they had that evening.  “I was just lost in thought.”  This wasn’t completely untrue.

They sat for another few moments in silence, Jonathan eating, Arabella sipping her wine.

“And where is Mr Norrell this evening,” she asked.  “He hasn’t forgotten it is dinner-time again, has he?”

Jonathan blushed rather radically and paused a moment before swallowing his mouthful of food.  “Um, no, he was just…tired I think.”

Arabella essentially inhaled her mouthful of wine and spluttered in the most undignified way.  She resolutely didn’t take that conversation any further.

****

The next evening Jonathan decided to visit the Bedford, no doubt to meet Colonel Grant.  Arabella had thought that a splendid idea.  He hadn’t seen his friends from the Army for such a long time, and their company always cheered Jonathan, even if it did occasionally bring up bad memories.

Arabella, however, could find no useful occupation that evening.  Her magic group would not be meeting for two weeks and she had a pile of reading to catch up on in the meantime.  But she was bored of that.  She was bored of reading, bored of sewing.  Bored.  It was not like her to be bored; she was usually so content with her normal hobbies, but tonight she had an anxious feeling, like she wanted to do something silly like dance by herself or run around the house like she had as a child.

Not resisting this last urge she bolted out of the sitting room, headlong into Mr Norrell, who let out a little squeak as she collided with him.  The force of it knocked both of them, the hall table, and one of Arabella’s favourite vases, to the floor. 

She looked up, embarrassed to find herself sprawled across Mr Norrell, who was looking up at her in alarm.  Arabella suddenly became very aware of her own body, pressed far too close to his; the warmth of him in the chilly air of the hallway. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said as she hurried to her feet, and helped him up at the same time.  “Oh, you’ve cut your hand!”

He looked down and let out a shriek at the blood that was oozing from the wound on his hand, no doubt caused by the smashed vase. 

“Come with me, we’ll get that cleaned up,” she said, dragging him to the kitchen as he just stared, ashen faced, at his bloodied hand.

The staff had been given the evening off, so she lit the lamps herself and she had to root through several cupboards before she found a cloth and a bandage.

She sat Norrell down in a chair and placed his hand palm up on the kitchen table.  She sat opposite him and dabbed at the cut with a clean, damp cloth.  Norrell hissed through his teeth at the pain and almost snatched his hand away, but Arabella held on firmly.

She worked in silence for some moments, dabbing at the cut until the bleeding started to slow down. She had been so focused, that she hadn’t noticed Norrell looking at her.  When she finally glanced up at him, she found that he was staring at her curiously.  She felt herself flush with heat at the intensity of the look he was giving her, like he was studying something mysterious and wonderful.  He remained awkwardly silent, as though he had a million questions to ask and didn’t know which to ask first.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, holding a dry cloth to Norrell’s hand, hoping the blood would start to dry now.  “Other than your injured hand, of course,” she said with a wry smile.

“I…” he faltered and frowned, not knowing how to continue.

“You can be honest with me,” Arabella replied.  “I do not mind.”

Norrell was always painfully, brutally, even dangerously honest, so she was unsure why he was being coy now.  He stared at her for a few moments longer, and then said, “I was just thinking how little I understand you.”

Arabella frowned.  “Understand me?”

“Your motives.  Why you have allowed…” he trailed off, not giving a name to the situation they were in.

“Allowed you and Jonathan to continue, you mean?”  Norrell nodded mutely, still looking at her with that searching expression.  “I’m not sure ‘allowed’ is the right word, but that’s beside the point.  I did it because I knew it would make Jonathan very happy.”

Norrell’s frown deepened, as though his understanding had decreased rather than increased with her explanation.  “I still do not comprehend your actions.  I do not understand how you can be so…understanding.”

It was Arabella’s turn to give Norrell a thoughtful look, wondering whether he was really searching for understanding or whether he was feeling guilty for being here.  Or maybe he was feeling jealous of Arabella’s relationship with her husband.  She hadn’t contemplated that Norrell might be angry at having to share Jonathan with _her_.  ‘That would be so like him,’ she thought.

“Jonathan loves you,” she said at last.  “He was dreadfully unhappy without you.  It broke my heart to see.”

Norrell had still not received the answer he was looking for.

“Jonathan’s happiness is very important to me.”

Even she was dissatisfied with her answers.  It was hard to put into words, that seeing Jonathan unhappy was more than she could bear.  That Jonathan had a big heart beneath his perpetual-little-boy façade; someone who needed to love and be loved.

“Jonathan did not receive much love as a child,” she announced, “so it seems only right that he should have an abundance of it now.”

This seemed to be something Norrell did understand.  He looked down at his uninjured hand in his lap, examining his neatly trimmed, immaculately clean nails.  “I can certainly sympathise with that.”

Arabella thought it dreadful how parents could so damage their children.  She and Jonathan had only ever briefly discussed having children, and they had decided that they were now too old and too selfish with their time to think seriously about starting a family.  Still, they weren’t doing anything to prevent it either, and Arabella knew that if they did have a child, it would not want for love.

She looked at Norrell and she suddenly understood him very well.  He had been the same as Jonathan, raised in an unfeeling home.  Jonathan had thrown himself into society once he was able to; Norrell had retreated into a library and into himself.  They were two sides of the same coin.  She couldn’t help but think that if you merged them together they would probably make one very normal person.  But who wanted normal?

“I love him,” Norrell announced, as though he needed to voice it finally to her.

“I know,” she replied as she finished bandaging his hand.  “I should not have allowed this if I thought you didn’t”

On impulse she took his other hand in hers and stroked the top of it with her thumb.  He looked up at her with amazement.  In the low, flickering candlelight Norrell’s face looked soft, his pale skin glowing almost supernaturally.  In this light he almost looked handsome.

“When he was your pupil,” Arabella said in nothing more than a whisper, as though revealing some deep secret, “Jonathan talked of little else but you.  Somehow every conversation would end up being about you in some way.  I have shared him with you for most of our marriage, if only in spirit.”

He looked down at his hand in hers; he seemed transfixed by the sight of it.

“I am not jealous, or angry.  I wanted to be, I thought I should find myself resenting you for taking Jonathan from me.  But I don’t, and I won’t apologise for doing what I believe is right for my family.”

Norrell looked up at her sharply, and it was then that she realised how close they had got to each other, whilst she was talking so softly to him.  He was looking at her intently, so intently that she found herself short of breath.

For one wild moment she thought he was about to kiss her.  For another, even wilder moment she thought she was going to let him.

Just then the door opened and Jonathan strolled in, pleasantly drunk.

“There you are!  What are you two whispering about?” he slurred.

When she explained about the accident, Jonathan took to fussing over Norrell’s injured hand; giddy with drink and overly-affectionate.

She left them to it, and then lay awake all night wondering just what was going on with her life. 


	7. Something Reckless

That there had been a shift in her relationship with Mr Norrell was undeniable.  Even Jonathan had remarked how much better they had been getting on.

“I find it strange that I still call him Mr Norrell,” Arabella said to Jonathan one morning over breakfast.  Norrell had not made it down, but that was not unusual.

Jonathan winced a little.  “Just don’t start calling him Gilbert,” he said in warning.  “He hates that.”

Her husband obviously spoke from experience, so she deferred to him on this matter.  She wasn’t fond of that name either, to be honest, so she was happy to respect his wishes.

Arabella found herself wanting to spend more time with Norrell, especially when Jonathan was away.  Before, she had only herself for company around the house.  She had friends that she visited of course and the magic club, but it wasn’t quite the same as having someone at home, where she could relax. 

And Norrell seemed to be warming to her company as well.  In Jonathan he had found a sort of kindred spirit.  They were drawn so close together by their love of magic, by the way it surrounded and dominated their lives, their every dream and waking thought.  Now, he was drawn to Arabella by another passion.  Jonathan.  She was the only other person in the world who loved Jonathan Strange as devotedly and ardently as he did.  They loved and were loved by the same man and it brought them both the same contentment, at times delirious happiness.

They could talk quite freely to each other now, and Arabella felt flattered that Norrell had taken a liking to her.  She knew, more than anyone that his regard was not easily won and she found herself cherishing the tentative friendship they had built up.

Their connection was undeniable, and as Arabella found her new feelings of affection towards Norrell grow, she felt the feelings of anger and irritation diminish.  She felt that she understood him now.

****

One afternoon, with the persistent London rain pelting the windows, the three of them were sat in the sitting room.  It was not often that all three of them sat together, but it was possibly the warmest room in the house, with its plush furniture and roaring fire, so they had gathered.

Jonathan and Norrell were discussing magic; Arabella had lost the thread of their conversation as she became engrossed in her book, and instead their chatter became nothing but a hum in the background.

As her eyes grew tired she looked up at her book, only to see Norrell sitting lecturing at length about something or other and Jonathan, clearly not listening to a word, just staring at him with the most ridiculously lovesick look on his face, like a young student with a fancy for his teacher.

Arabella was suddenly overwhelmed by a flood of affection for both of them, and she hid her broad smile behind her hand and looked back down at her book.  Even after she dropped her hand, her smile remained, radiant and happy; her dark eyes alight with pleasure.

There was a pause in Norrell’s oratory that made Arabella look up from her book.  Norrell was looking at her with a curious expression, as though delight and confusion were battling for dominance over his face.  When he realised she was looking at him, he flushed red and quickly looked away, biting his lip and frowning at himself.

Something about their silent exchange made Arabella’s heart pound, and she was completely unable to focus on her book after that. 

**** 

She was also noticing other things.  One morning, before he left for the Commons, she watched as Jonathan said something to Norrell, which made the older man smile broadly.  It was the most honest, happy smile she had ever seen him give and she couldn’t help but think it a rather lovely smile. 

When she made love with Jonathan she couldn’t help but wonder if he was the same with Norrell.  Obviously there would be some difference, but was he as attentive and as exuberant?  And what of Norrell, who was so shy and retiring.  Surely there was something about him that kept Jonathan’s interest. 

When she was alone she thought about it even more, because there was nothing to distract her then.   She almost asked Jonathan, but at the last moment changed her mind, blushing deeply at just the thought of the conversation.

**** 

One night when Jonathan went to the Bedford, Arabella had gone to bed early.  She had been going over the plans to redecorate the dining room and she was left feeling so tired that she had barely been able to keep her eyes open at dinner.  Yet when she was in bed she found that she could not fall asleep.  In fact, she had been filled with that same curious energy as before, as though she would quite like to do something reckless.

Finding sleep elusive and the bed strangely uncomfortable, she put a dressing gown on over her nightdress and padded downstairs in bare feet.

There was a light coming from the library and for a moment she thought that Jonathan was home early so she pushed open the door and peered in.  She discovered that it was Norrell, reading through Jonathan’s notes, the ones for his new book.  He was staring at them intensely, reading and re-reading every word, devouring them, eyes sharp and focused, something akin to desire in them.  She had seen him look at Jonathan like that.

He jumped up when she came through the door, maybe feeling guilty at having been caught looking at the notes.  He had no reason to; she knew Jonathan would be happy for him to read them.  She said as much to Norrell and he relaxed his shoulders a little in relief, although she couldn’t help feel that she had interrupted something intensely private.  As if this was the way he comforted himself in Jonathan’s absence; the way she would sometimes fantasise about what Jonathan was up to when she was alone in bed.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you.  I’ll leave you in peace,” she said, suddenly feeling too warm and too full of energy, like something was coiled inside her.

“Please don’t,” he said in a voice barely audible even in the silence of the library.  She heard it though, and the quiet desperation in it.  She moved towards the desk.  Norrell was still stood behind it looking at the notes he had dropped.

“Jonathan is so prolific.  I do envy that.”  Everyone knew that Norrell had more thoughts on the subject of magic than anyone in the world, but found it impossible to commit them to paper except in copious, long-winded notes.

“It comes from having an untidy mind, I think,” she suggested.  “It all just sort of, falls out of his head.”

Norrell stared down at the desk and wrinkled his nose.  “Not just an untidy mind.” 

The desk, the whole room in fact, looked like a paper factory had exploded in it.  Arabella laughed fondly, and Norrell smiled one of those genuine smiles that Arabella had taken such a fancy to.  The pressure building inside Arabella grew almost unbearable.  It was then she realised exactly what she wanted.  

Something must have shown in her face, for Norrell’s eyes went a little wide, and he swallowed audibly.  It was then that he noticed that she was in her night clothes.

“Mrs Strange,” he began but she cut him off.

“Arabella,” she said, stepping round the desk towards him.  He backed up a little, but was blocked by the arm of the chair.  “There’s no need to scuttle off,” she said with a kind smile. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” 

He still looked warily at her.  She cocked her head to one side, and examined his face for a moment. 

“Are you happy?” she asked after a moment. 

He blinked in surprise.  Whatever he expected her to say, that was not it.  “Yes,” he said, then frowned at himself, as if he had not expected himself to be so honest. 

“Good,” she replied, reaching for his hand. 

His skin was smooth and warm and flawless.  She squeezed his hand affectionately and then smiled at him.  “I am happy too,” she said.  “I am glad you came to live with us.” 

For a moment she thought that Norrell was going to burst in to tears, he looked so overwhelmed by her words.  “It is very kind of you to say so.” 

Finally giving in to the impulse she had a few times now, she stepped forward into Norrell’s personal space, and kissed him lightly on the lips.  He looked startled, but he didn’t back away. 

“Why did you do that?” he asked; his voice sounded as though it was being strained through an accordion. 

She smiled.  “I just wanted to,” she said with a shrug.  “I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”  She looked up at him through her lashes, coyly, flirtatiously.  “Do you not want me to?” 

Norrell looked as though he was about to say something, but he was too mesmerized by her lips that he forgot what he was going to say. 

When he did not answer she stepped forward again, and placed her lips more firmly to his.  He let out a little squeak, but he did press back, very tentatively, as though he had only ever kissed his maiden aunt before. 

She backed away and pursed her lips.  “Now, I know you can do better than that,” she challenged, and before she had time to press forward once more, he swept her up and kissed her soundly.  And it was good; so good that she forgot to breathe and had to pull away before she suffocated.

She only needed a moment though, before she kissed him again, with as much fervour as before.  She buried her hands in his hair, and his hands held her firmly by her trim waist.  She wasn’t used to kissing someone so short, but she found it rather refreshing not to have to reach up, or get onto her tiptoes. 

Meanwhile, his tongue found its way into her mouth and his arms wound their way around her, crushing her to his body.  He kissed so much like Jonathan that she suddenly remembered the kiss she had seen, and as a hot lance of desire sliced through her she moaned into his mouth. 

Norrell pulled away from the kiss, and they both stood there, panting hard, lips red a swollen.  His hair was a mess and his blue eyes were almost black, the pupils wide, partly from the darkness, partly from desire.  She knew that look, even if she wasn’t used to seeing it on this particular face. 

“I thought this would feel wrong,” Norrell said finally. 

“You have thought about this?” Arabella asked, her fingers twisting through the brown and grey curls on his head.  “So have I,” she said when he nodded in reply.  “I don’t think it’s wrong.  I’m practically your wife as well.” 

Norrell looked at her as though she was something rare and precious, and she found that she rather liked that look.  She felt alive and wonderful from his kisses and she wanted more.  Arabella kissed him again.  It started out slow, but as they fanned the flames between them it grew in passion, until she was pushing him firmly against the arm of the chair, and he was struggling to pull her closer to him.  She could feel his erection stirring against her thigh and the excitement of it all made her so wet that if she didn’t do something _right now_ she thought she might explode. 

“Come to bed with me,” she breathed against his mouth.

He gasped, but he took her hand and let himself be led to the bedroom.


	8. Arabella In Charge

By the time they had got to the bedroom, most of Norrell’s former boldness had deserted him.  He closed the door after them and then leaned against it, looking nervously at the room; mostly at the bed.  Jonathan and Arabella’s marriage bed. 

“I said I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want me to,” Arabella reminded him.  “I meant it.  Anything you don’t feel comfortable with, we won’t do.”  Norrell nodded, but said nothing further and didn’t move. 

In the end she took his hands and pulled him further into the room, to stand beside the bed. 

“Kiss me again,” she said, “I so enjoyed your kisses.” 

He complied, kissing her with a skill he had almost certainly learned from Jonathan and she responded enthusiastically.  His confidence was starting to return, and when she heard his muffled groan of pleasure, and felt it vibrate against her tongue, she pulled back, determined to move things along as quickly as possible.

She stepped back from him and he stood transfixed as she removed her nightclothes and finally stood before him completely naked.  His mouth dropped open in a look that she would have found funny if she hadn’t been so aroused by the ardent look of desire she also saw on his face. 

She gently pushed him down so that he was sat on the edge of the bed.  He sat there, still fully clothed, looking up at Arabella with awe and longing, and not a little nervousness.  

Norrell remained motionless, at a complete loss as to how to proceed, so Arabella took his right hand in hers and confidently placed it on her right breast.  His gasp turned into a groan and he remained captivated by the sight of the small swell of flesh in his hand.  His hand was small and warm, and felt wonderful against her chilled skin. 

Her breath caught in her throat as he squeezed, gently at first, and then more firmly.  He seemed amazed at the softness of her breast, the way it yielded to his touch, and was equally amazed at her reaction as he touched.  

She gasped and her nipple hardened under his palm.  Curiously he ran his index finger around the swollen nub and watched as it puckered and hardened even further.  He pinched it lightly and immediately withdrew when she let out a cry.

“No, don’t stop,” she said, putting his hand back where it had been.  “That feels good.  I like that.”

He did as he was told.  Clearly he was hers to command.  The thought sent a thrill through Arabella.  During her first time with Jonathan she had understood, although it was not something she mentioned, that although he was her first, she was not his.  She didn’t mind.  She had been nervous and was pleased that he had known what to do.  Since then she had taken control of their love making at times, but this was different.  She was guiding someone through their first experience with a woman, and the power she felt from it made her feel lightheaded. 

Norrell took the initiative to pay her left breast the same attention, and she rewarded his actions with a breathless moan; an assurance that he was doing this right.  He seemed so fascinated with her breasts, alternating between stroking and squeezing; pinching her nipples then soothing them with delicate touches, circling them, teasing them to an aching hardness. 

As wonderful as it was, the rest of her body was crying out for attention.  It was up to her to guide him.  Taking his hands once again, she had him stroke down her stomach, down to a sensitive patch of skin at her hip.  Norrell got the idea, and continue smoothing his hands along her body, tracing every curve of her, paying more attention to any part that made her gasp or moan.  It felt wonderful, empowering to be explored so ardently, as though her body was a delightful mystery to be studied and solved. 

There was still one place that needed to be explored, and she knew that she would have to be the guide again.  She brought one of his hands up to her mouth, and he watched open-mouthed as she sucked his index and middle fingers into her mouth, slowly, deliberately, swirling her tongue around them, making them slick.  His eyes became heavy lidded as he watched her and he bit his lip to stop from groaning out loud when she sucked hard on the digits in her mouth.

He was panting for breath by the time she release his fingers with a wet pop.  She grinned triumphantly, that she had managed to undo him so thoroughly with so simple an action. 

She climbed onto the bed with him, her knees resting either side of his hips, but she held herself above him, not yet settling onto his lap.  She then guided his hand between her legs and his warm, clever fingers ran through the soft curls that covered her mound and down to her opening, which was slick and hot.  She watched his face intently as he discovered the wetness at her centre.  He looked at her with shock, as though he had not thought she could be so aroused, as though he still didn’t quite trust that she wanted him. 

“Yes, I’m wet for you,” she said, feeling bold.  She was excited by her own words and this time they both moaned as her body released another wet trickle onto his fingers.   She showed him exactly where to touch her.  She showed him how she liked to be touched, moved his wet fingers in a circular rhythm around her clitoris until he had found the rhythm and she let him carry on by himself, whilst she rested her hands on his shoulders for support. 

His face was so close to her breasts; she could feel his hot breath fan across them, coming quicker and quicker as her own excited gasps grew louder and more passionate.  As her pleasure increased, she started grinding against his fingers, desperate for more friction, her breast bouncing lightly as she moved.  Quite on instinct, and without needing to be told, he pressed his face to her bobbing breasts.  His breath was hot and wet against her, his slight stubble scratched against the soft skin. 

“Yes!” she hissed, one hand finding its way into his hair as she held him to her.  “Use your mouth.” 

He teased at first, planting gentle little kisses across them before finally doing what she really wanted.  He took on nipple into his hot mouth, and she let out a cry as the sensation shot straight to her groin, where his fingers were still diligently working her towards the edge.  

“A little harder!” she said, almost whining in frustration.  She was almost there.  Just a little harder.  “A little faster!”

He did as he was told and started rubbing against her firmly and quickly, relentlessly.  And then all Arabella could do was hold onto him and let herself get swept along by the wave of pleasure that was cresting over her.

She was so close, so close.  Just a little more.  She was vaguely aware that she was babbling away, riding his fingers quite shamelessly and holding onto him a little too tightly.  But she was so close that if she didn’t come soon, she thought she might cry.

At that moment Norrell sucked hard at the nipple in his mouth, and Arabella felt the wave crash down over her.  She would have cried out, except she lost all her breath, so no sound came out.  She quivered as the sensations rippled through her body, finally ebbing.

She took a deep shuddering breath and, quite exhausted from it all, collapsed forward onto Norrell.  He had not expected to have to bear her weight, so he fell backwards and the two of them ended up sprawled across the bed.

Arabella laughed warmly, pressing her face to his shoulder.  His hand tentatively came up to stroke at her hair, and she found that she was touched by such a simple display of affection.

****

Arabella reached up to kiss him; just a tender kiss.  As she broke away he looked up at her with that same look of wonderment, as if this was all a dream that he thought he would wake up from at any moment.  It made Arabella smile.  It was the same look Jonathan had given her when she first suggested that Norrell should come and live with them.

“That was wonderful,” she said, kissing him again.  “Thank you.”

He smiled a shy smile and Arabella traced it lightly with her fingers.  He looked so dishevelled, with his hair a mess, his lips red and swollen, his clothing crumpled from where she had clung to him.

She sat up again, this time she did settle down onto his hips and she could feel his erection straining urgently against the restrictive material of his breeches.  He let out a gasp as she pressed her body weight against him, and his hands went to her hips.  She experimentally rolled her hips and observed as Norrell’s eyes rolled back and he was forced to close them against the onslaught of sensation.

Arabella felt her mouth go dry, and even though she had just found her own completion, she was feeling a familiar tingle start at her core once more.

She continued to tease, rocking herself against him, feeling him getting harder beneath her.  His hands gripped her hips more firmly and he was guiding her movements, encouraging her to go faster, harder.  Arabella stopped her movements and Norrell’s eyes flew open, pleading with her.

“No, please don’t stop,” he begged.  She rather liked hearing him beg, but she didn’t want to torture the man all night.

“I’m just getting started,” she said.  She leant over and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then climbed off him.  “Let’s get into bed.”

She climbed under the covers, and waited patiently for him.

Norrell stared at the bed uncertainly for a while, wary of it.  Arabella just smiled at him, until he made the decision to join her.  She let out a happy little laugh as he advanced towards her.  “Take your clothes off first!” she said.  Norrell looked down at himself, as though he had completely forgotten that he was wearing any clothes.

He started to remove them, and, when he saw that she was watching, had to turn his back on her, not wanting to see her watching him.

He had undressed quickly and dived under the covers even quicker, bringing them up to his chin to cover his whole body.  Arabella smiled patiently, but wasn’t going to let him get shy again now.  She pulled back the covers a little, and settled into her previous position on his lap.  This time they were touching, skin to skin and she could feel the hot, thick column of his arousal against her own damp heat now.

They both breathed a sigh when she settled down onto him.  “That’s better,” she said as she wriggled in his lap, making him squirm beneath her.

He was sat back against the high stack of pillows, her breast hanging tantalisingly in front of his face once more.  Norrell reached out to touch them, but Arabella took his hand away immediately and shook her head.

“They’re a little too sensitive at the moment,” she explained.  “And anyway,” she continued, sliding her hand down his chest, down to his stomach where she circled the belly-button set into his soft, slightly rounded belly, “it’s your turn now.”

Norrell leaned forward to kiss her, feeling his previous boldness return.  He kissed along her chin and down, pausing to suck at the pulse that leapt beneath the pale, white skin of her throat.  In the meantime, her fingers traced a thin line of hair that started at his belly, running down to his groin, where the hair became thicker, wirier. 

He sucked hard at her throat as she took his straining erection into her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.  She felt it throb in her palm, and as she touched the tip Norrell gasped into her shoulder and a few beads of fluid leaked out onto her fingers.  Now, as she stroked him firmly, up and down, her way was eased by the sticky fluid.  Norrell was thrusting into her hand now, holding onto her hips now merely for support as she pushed him further and further towards madness.

Arabella’s mouth had gone completely dry, and there was a low, burning sensation building at the base of her spine.  She knew what she wanted now.  She wanted to sink down onto the hard cock in her hand, she wanted to ride him furiously and watch him come apart beneath her. 

The very idea!  It thrilled her.  She had never had another man inside her, had never wanted one before now.  But now she wanted this, with him. 

She kissed him forcefully, biting at his lips.  “I want you inside me,” she panted out against his open mouth.  He surged forward into her hand, and for a moment she thought that he had reached his completion, but he was just as hard as before; still leaking profusely from the tip, but still a little way off finishing. 

He was taking deep breaths, clearly trying to control himself.  Arabella feared it would all be over as soon as she took him inside her, but the idea that he was so ready to explode, that he was so aroused, it was burning her up inside. 

Without any further preamble, she took hold of him, raised herself up, and sat down forcefully, impaling herself on him.  She let out a cry of surprise at how good it felt, but it was drowned out by his louder cry, that made her ears ring. 

She paused for a moment and saw that he had screwed his eyes shut and was holding himself rigidly still.  His teeth were sunk hard into his bottom lip and he was breathing rapidly through his nose.

“Are you all right?” she whispered, not daring to move.  He nodded frantically, his teeth biting harder at his lip, so hard that she was sure he would bite right through it.  “It’s all right,” she soothed.  “You can let go.  I want to feel you let go.”

Arabella pushed him back against the pillows and, holding him down by his shoulders, started to roll her hips, slowly at first.  He wasn’t quite as close to orgasm as she had thought; clearly he had managed to claw back some self-control.  She had to remember, he might never have been with a woman before, but he was not, technically, a virgin.

He finally opened his eyes, which were glassy and unfocused, his pupils blown wide with desire.  She moved faster now, raising up and grinding down, her wet channel sliding along his cock with ease.  She squeezed her inner muscles and was rewarded with a yelp of pleasure from Norrell, who was watching her breast bounce with every movement.  He cupped them both in his hands, forgetting that she had warned him against it earlier.  She cried out, her nipples so sensitive that it bordered on painful, but she didn’t stop him.  She could feel something building inside her once more, much to her surprise.  She hadn’t expected this little encounter to be so…satisfying.

She was riding him frantically now, her fingernails biting into Norrell’s shoulders.

“So good,” she choked out, feeling herself running out of breath once again.  “You feel so good inside me,” she said, knowing it would excite him, hoping it would drive him over the edge.  “I want to feel you come,” she continued.  “Feels so good.”

Quite without instruction, Norrell reached down and pressed his thumb into her clitoris, just as one hand cruelly twisted her nipple.  Arabella let out a wail as pleasure, sharp as a knife edge sliced through her, starting at her centre, travelling up her spine.

She ground down on him, her body pulsating around him.  Just as she had wished, he came apart beneath her.  He grabbed her hips and pulled her down roughly onto him, just as he thrust up sharply, crying out and spilling inside her.

Arabella blinked, dazed from her second orgasm, one that she hadn’t expected at all.  She was still holding his shoulders in a tight grip, he was still clutching at her hips, his blunt fingers digging into the pliant flesh.  They were both red and sweaty and gasping for breath.

And it was at that moment that Arabella realised they were not alone. 


	9. Good Things Really Do Happen

Arabella let out a scream as she looked across the room and saw her husband, standing in the doorway, open-mouthed in shock, his wide eyes taking in the scene before him.

“Jonathan!” she shrieked.   Belatedly she realised that she was still sitting astride Norrell’s hips, and he was still buried inside her body.  She climbed off with as much grace as the situation allowed and tried to hide her nakedness with the covers.

Norrell had also hidden under the covers, completely.  He was now just a lump on one side of the bed.

And Jonathan was still just standing there, staring, with a shock writ plainly on his face.  Arabella couldn’t tell whether he was angry or not and suddenly she was filled with fear, and cursing herself and her desire to do something ‘reckless’.  What a fool she was!

“Jonathan?” she asked.  “Jonathan, please say something.”

He merely blinked at her a few times, then turned around and went out of the room, closing the door behind him.

 

Arabella, after being completely unsuccessful at talking Norrell out from under the covers, put on her nightdress and went in search of her husband.

 

She didn’t have to search long.  He was in the library, sitting in the half dark with only a few lit candles for light.  Arabella swallowed hard, feeling like a lump had formed in her throat.  Jonathan looked a little frightening, sat there in the gloom.

She approached him, of course.  This was her husband; he would never hurt her.

“Jonathan?” she whispered, approaching cautiously.

He looked up at her, his face studiously blank.  “Bell!  Have you had a good evening?”

Arabella grew impatient.  If he wanted to get angry and yell about this, she wanted him to get it over with.  “Jonathan!  Stop being so ridiculous and talk to me!”

Jonathan suddenly couldn’t quite hold it in.  He burst out laughing and laughed until he had given himself hiccups.  Arabella could have hit him.

“You really are the most infuriating,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself defensively.  “There was me thinking you were angry or upset.  There was me worrying about you.  I don’t know why I bother.”

“Angry?” Jonathan said after holding his breath to stop his hiccups.  “Upset?  Bell, I’m utterly bewildered!  You have shown no indication that you even _like_ Norrell, let alone want to do… _that_ with him.”  He stared wildly ahead, as though he was playing it out in his mind.

Arabella had to admit, her husband had a point.  “I suppose I didn’t like him, at first,” she confessed.  “A person’s feelings can change.  Yours did.”

“Yes, my love, but that is quite different.  Norrell is a part of me.”  He ran a hand across his face in frustration. “It’s hard to explain.”

“No, I understand,” she said, taking his hand in hers.  “I’ve told you time and again that I understand.  I’ve always understood.  You just didn’t believe me.”

Jonathan gave her that look again, like she was a miracle that he had just witnessed.

“You are part of him and he is part of you,” she kissed his knuckles.  “And I love you.  Everything about you.  Including him.”

“Oh, Bell,” he whispered reverently.

“I confess that tonight I got a little carried away,” she said, suddenly feeling mortified that she had been caught being so wanton and shameless.

 Jonathan just laughed again. “Carried away?  Now that’s quite an understatement.”

“How much did you see?” she asked, feeling herself blush from head to toe, her head buzzing with embarrassment.

“Enough,” Jonathan said with the slyest, naughtiest grin she had ever seen him give.  “I’d forgotten how bossy you can get.”

Arabella looked down at her feet.  “You are not angry?”

“Angry?”

“About what we did?”

“And what right would I have to be angry?”

Arabella thought about it for a moment.  He had a point, but although it wasn’t rational for him to be angry, the human heart was almost never rational.  She considered that, even though he had another lover, he might resent her having one.  She explained as much to him.

“Not at all.  I have always hoped that the two of you would learn to get along a little better,” Jonathan said.

“This went a little beyond ‘getting along’,” she answered.

“It was a rather radical interpretation of the text, I admit, but still…”

Jonathan fell silent and contemplative for a moment and Arabella was forced to wait patiently for him to say anything further.  Eventually he sat back and looked up at her searchingly.

“Bell, have you ever wanted something so much, but were convinced that you never be able to have it?”

Arabella sat on the edge of the desk in front of him.  “Of course.  For four years I wanted nothing more than for you to come home.”

“How did you feel when you finally got what you longed for?”

“Like, it was too good to be true.  I always thought there would be some catch, some loop-hole somewhere.”  She smiled ironically.  “I was right, as well.”

He chuckled and admitted she had been correct.  “I wanted nothing more than to have my two loves with me forever.  And when I got what wanted, I assumed that there would be something around the corner that would spoil everything.”

“And?” she asked, wondering if she had been the one to spoil everything.

“You and Norrell argued about anything and everything.  I thought for a while that everything was going to fall apart.”

Arabella sighed.  “And there was me thinking you found the whole thing terribly amusing.”

“Oh, I did, but I still thought one of you would end up leaving.”

“And now?  How do you feel now?”

Jonathan’s eyes where shining in the low light.  Arabella thought that maybe he was crying, but she couldn’t quite tell.  She reached out to touch his cheek, and his own hand came up to cover hers.  He placed a kiss on the palm and smiled up her.

“For a long time I have harboured a fantasy,” he began, kissing up her wrist, pulling her off the desk and towards him.

“A fantasy?” she asked, sitting on his knee, letting him kiss his way up her arm and over her shoulder.

“Yes, a particularly sordid little fantasy.” He carried on kissing, working his way up her neck.

Arabella breathed a sigh.  “Oh, really?  Do tell.”

Jonathan hummed against her throat and she shivered at the vibration of it.

“It involves me coming home and finding my wife and my lover thoroughly enjoying one another.”

She gasped as he raked his teeth against her skin.  “That does sound very sordid,” she said, shifting a little on his lap.  She winced, still feeling quite sore and sensitive. 

“I told you.  The trouble is if this little fantasy comes true, then I really will have everything I ever wished for.” 

“And you would worry that it would all be too good to be true,” she finished for him.  He nodded against her shoulder.

“After all,” he said, “my return to you came at a price, didn’t it.” He sounded so dreadfully guilty that Arabella couldn’t wait to reassure him. 

“I thought it was that at first.  I thought it was the price I had to pay for getting you back, and it was by no means too steep a price, but…” she trailed off, not knowing how to continue.  In the meantime Jonathan was going mad waiting for her to finish.  

“Bell?”

She looked into his eyes, the low candlelight making them glitter so strangely.  “Maybe I got something that I didn’t even know I wanted.  Until now.”

Jonathan kissed her forcefully, desperately.  “Oh Bell, my love!” he cried after he broke the kiss. 

“Maybe we just need to learn to accept that good things really do happen,” she said. 

“You really are very wise, Mrs Strange.” 

“I know,” she answered with a smile.  “I’m also exhausted,” she said with a sigh. 

Jonathan’s face broke out into that cheeky grin again.  “I’m not surprised.”  Arabella playfully hit him on the shoulder and he just kissed her nose in response.  “I suppose we should go to bed.” 

“Norrell is probably still hiding under the covers,” she said as they blew out the candles and left the library.  “You’ll probably have more luck coaxing him out than I did.”

Jonathan paused in the hallway.  With her hand still in his she was stopped in her tracks as well.  Arabella looked up at him, her eyebrow raised.  “Something wrong?”

“We could just…leave him where he is,” Jonathan suggested.  He had that look about him again, like he had asked for too much when he should have been grateful for what he already had.

Arabella smiled and nodded.  “It is a big enough bed.”  Her husband just shook his head in disbelief, but couldn’t help but smile. 

He paused again halfway up the stairs, looking a little awkward, hesitant, Arabella would have said.

“I think this is going to take some getting used to,” Jonathan admitted.

Arabella smiled deviously.  “Oh, you’ll adapt.  Trust me.”

To be continued...


	10. ...And Then Some

To followers of magic all over England, it really was the most marvellous thing, a most generous action on the part of Mr and Mrs Strange, for inviting the lonely Mr Norrell to stay with them indefinitely, since Mr Strange and Mr Norrell’s return to England.  Everyone considered it a most Christian, charitable act. 

Of course, charity had really nothing to do with it.  What these people didn’t know (mainly because of an enchantment but partly because they didn’t _want_ to know), was that Mr Strange, his pretty wife Arabella, and the reclusive Mr Norrell, had a very interesting relationship which involved the sharing of all things.  Shared home, shared meals and shared bed.

It was probably best that the people of England knew nothing of the latter.

 

It had been some weeks since there had been a tentative agreement that they would share everything in this relationship, and although Arabella could count herself as content with the way things were, she had to admit to a certain amount of disappointment.  It was true that the three of them now occupied the same bed, but this had only been for sleeping so far.  They had not quite got round to sharing _everything._

It was nice now that the three of them felt comfortable being affectionate with each other, in front of each other, knowing that there would be no hurt feelings.  They wouldn’t be shy about holding hands, or exchanging kisses.  In bed the three of them would end up entwined during the night.  Arabella had found this rather stifling at first, but after a few weeks she wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Still, things had gone no further than kisses and cuddles, and Arabella knew that she would have to be the one to take matters into her own hands.  As usual.

 

At first, Arabella had planned to be in bed waiting for both of them; naked under the covers and a clear invitation written on her expression.  But typically, Jonathan had wandered off somewhere and hadn’t been home at his usual time, and Norrell would not come to bed unless Jonathan was there. 

Arabella thought that she would have more luck herding cats than she would in getting these two men to go along with her plans.  Still, she was determined.

At 10 o’clock she threw on a nightdress and went in search of them.

Jonathan was still not home, which was very annoying, and so like him!  Norrell, much to her surprise was in the spare bedroom, where he had slept for the first few months of his stay here.  He was sat on the bed in his shirtsleeves, in the process of removing his shoes.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked. 

Norrell looked like a startled squirrel.  “I was going to bed.” 

“In here?” 

“Well, I thought…since Jonathan was not at home.”

“Oh, honestly, don’t be so ridiculous,” she said, and took his hand and led him, in his stocking feet, to their bedroom.

“It just seemed…odd, to do this when Jonathan was away,” he said by way of an apology.

Arabella smiled fondly, trying to remember a time when everything about this man irritated her.  It seemed so long ago now.  Had it really only been a few short months? 

“You are silly,” she said kindly, taking both his hands in hers, pulling him towards the bed.  “After all, it wouldn’t be the first time it has been just you and me in this bed.” 

Norrell blushed scarlet, possibly the deepest blush she’d seen on him yet.  “It was rather embarrassing to have Jonathan walk in like that,” he confessed. 

“Well, yes,” Arabella admitted.  “But apart from that?  You don’t regret-” 

“Oh, no!” Norrell interrupted, alarmed, shaking his head vehemently.  “No, it was very…” he trailed off with another blush. 

“Good?” she offered.  “Exciting?” 

“It was wonderful,” he muttered, staring at her hands in his.  She squeezed them reassuringly. 

“It was,” she agreed.  It had surprised her, but it had been wonderful.  Mostly because she felt that it was the start of something very wonderful.  “I’ve thought about it many times over the last few weeks,” she admitted. 

“Really?” Norrell said, sounding so much like a little boy.  Arabella was reminded of Jonathan again.  Funny, how these two men were so different, yet so alike. 

She nodded.  “I was thinking how much I’d like to do it again.  Would you like that?” 

“Tonight?” he asked, as if she wasn’t quite giving him enough notice.  Arabella knew a stalling tactic when she heard one though, and the light of desire in his small, blue eyes told her that he wouldn’t need much convincing. 

She pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed, like she had done a few weeks ago.  Norrell swallowed audibly, still unaccountably nervous around her. 

Her fingers untied his cravat then worked his waistcoat open.  He watched her through heavy-lidded eyes, his breath starting to quicken.  She really loved the way he let her lead everything.  She knew it was mostly down to his natural reticence, but she revelled in the fact that he was hers to do with as she pleased.  He seemed to enjoy it too, if the bulge forming in the front of his breeches was anything to go by.  And let’s face it; nobody could make Gilbert Norrell do something he didn’t want to do. 

Waistcoat and cravat discarded, Arabella loosened his shirt and pushed it up over his head, baring him from the waist up.  

She climbed up onto his lap, took his face into her hands and kissed him.  He was not hesitant about this; he kissed her back, his hands splaying across her back, pulling her into him.  It seemed the one thing that he was totally at ease doing, and Arabella wasn’t going to complain; his kisses made her lightheaded.

Thankful for his slight weight, she rolled them both so that he lay back against the pillows, where she lay atop him, deepening their kiss and entwining her tongue with his.  Norrell’s hands moved from her back into her hair, pulling it away from his face, angling her head to deepen the kiss as much as he could.

She smiled against his mouth then pulled back.  “You kiss like Jonathan,” she said, pressing her lips to his cheek, feeling coarse stubble scratch at her soft skin. 

“So do you,” he murmured, capturing her mouth once again. 

They kissed until their lips felt quite bruised. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her.  She looked at him in surprise.  She had never thought to hear those words from him.  

For his part he seemed very confused.  Confused as to why he had confessed to finding her beautiful and confused as to why someone so beautiful was paying him any attention at all. 

“Thank you,” she replied, her smile quite radiantly happy. 

  

A few more kisses and Arabella was feeling rather overheated.  She sat up and gazed down at Norrell.  The ever present blush fanned out across his torso, mottling the usually flawless white skin.  This time as she leant forward, her lips pressed to the hollow of his throat, scraping at the skin with her teeth.  She then worked downwards, sliding herself down the bed as she placed wet, sucking kisses between his loose pectoral muscles and over the slightly rounded belly. 

Arabella stopped when she got to the waistband of his breeches and glanced up at him coyly through her long lashes, knowing that she was teasing most awfully.  His chest was heaving and he was biting his bottom lip as he watched her. 

Bending her head again, Arabella placed kisses along the skin of his belly, just above his waistband, whilst her hands smoothed up his sides and over his chest, tracing circles around his nipples.  She could feel the heat coming from his groin as his cock was trying to break through his trousers.  He was starting to make breathy little whimpering noises. 

Deciding she had teased long enough she sat up a little and worked the front of his breeches open.  He goggled at her, scarcely believing what was happening, as she worked his erection free from his breeches and smallclothes and he let out a shocked cry as her tongue swiped over the wet tip. 

She grinned up at him mischievously but had to stifle her own groan at the picture he made, panting and sweating, red faced and writhing beneath her.  Desperate for her. 

Arabella diligently set back to work, tormenting him at first with soft kisses and delicate licks, then, once she was sure he was going to start cursing her if she didn’t _do something_ she took the head of his cock into his mouth and sucked. 

Norrell let out another sharp cry and his hips twitched as he forced himself not to thrust into her hot mouth.  His hands buried themselves in her loose hair; not forcing her movements, just resting in the dark locks, running his fingers through them.

She set a rhythm, alternately teasing him with the wet slide of her mouth, and driving him to the brink as she sucked at the hard flesh. 

She was just contemplating whether she wanted to finish him off like this or have him take her properly when she was rudely interrupted.

“I just can’t leave you two alone for one minute, can I?” came Jonathan’s insufferably smug voice from the doorway. 

 

 

Arabella sat up, her face flushed and her lips swollen, looking very far from ‘a proper lady’.  Jonathan’s eyes glistened dangerously as he took in the sight of her. 

Norrell let out another cry, this time of dismay; partly because he had been once more caught in the act, and partly because of the loss of Arabella’s mouth upon him.  He threw his arm across his face to shield his eyes.  He didn’t want to look at Jonathan at that moment.

 

“We didn’t think you were ever going to get home,” Arabella said impatiently, as though she was merely scolding him for letting his dinner go cold. 

Jonathan stepped into the room and, without further ado, started undressing.  He was so eager to get out of his clothes that he almost tripped over the breeches that he’d dropped to his ankles.

“So you started the party without me?” Jonathan asked pouting.  “How rude!”

“Rude of you, Jonathan,” Arabella said, tracing her fingernail down Norrell’s stomach, watching the soft muscles twitch.  “Keeping us waiting.  I thought that, since you had deserted us, the two of us could get along just fine without you.”

By this time Jonathan was completely naked.  He gave her a look that said ‘challenge accepted’ and he sat down on the bed beside his wife; kissed her deeply, groaning at the taste of Norrell in her mouth.

When he pulled back he looked down at Norrell, still hiding his face beneath his arm.  “Now, now,” Jonathan said, pulling back Norrell’s arm to reveal his red, sweaty face.  “No need to be bashful.  You’re not usually this shy in bed.”

Norrell groaned in embarrassment and closed his eyes.  “Please stop,” he said in a very half-hearted manner.  Jonathan chuckled at him.

“Oh, really?” said Arabella.  “And what is he usually like, my dearest?” she asked.

“Oh, he can be quite shameless once he gets going.”

Norrell was about to make some complaint, but Jonathan stoppered his mouth, kissing him soundly.  Any complaint he might have made just turned into a muffled groan as his mouth was plundered.  Arabella watched, riveted at the sight of them.  She felt the sudden urge to touch herself as she watched them kiss, watched their tongues tangling together.

“Now,” Jonathan said as he sat back up and looked at his wife.  “I believe I very rudely interrupted you in the middle of something.”

Arabella pretended to look cross at him.  “Yes, that was very thoughtless of you, Jonathan.”

“I apologise,” he grinned down at Norrell, who was watching them with a look of bewilderment and trepidation, as though he thought they were both about to devour him.  “A gentlemen should know better than to interrupt such a wonderful thing.”  Then he turned to Arabella.  “Well, don’t let me delay you any further.”

Arabella paused for a moment.  She had wanted this; the three of them together like this, but suddenly she was overcome with shyness.  She was all at once very nervous about being watched.

“Please,” her husband whispered in her ear.  “You cannot know how excited it made me, to watch you.”

With those words ringing in her ears, Arabella put her fears to one side and tentatively bent down again.  She was being silly.  Jonathan wanted this; he would never laugh at her or mock her in any way.

The erection that Norrell had been sporting just a short time ago, granite hard and about to explode at any moment, had wilted a little during the interruption, but it filled out again almost immediately as Arabella closed her lips around the tip of it once more.

She heard twin moans from Norrell and her husband, and she joined in as she felt a sharp stab of arousal at the base of her spine.  Her moan vibrated against the engorged flesh in her mouth and Norrell hissed and let fly a string of profanities she wouldn’t have thought he knew.

She heard Jonathan laugh above her.  “See, I told you,” he said, one hand stroking Arabella’s hair, the other rubbing in circles against Norrell’s stomach.  “Shameless.”

Arabella felt more sticky, salty fluid released into her mouth as she picked up the pace, grasping the base of his cock with her hand to stroke any part she couldn’t fit into her mouth.

“Oh,” Jonathan breathed above them, “if you could see how you both look at this moment.”

Jonathan’s hand reached under her and cupped her breasts through her nightdress.  She let out another groan as he played with her nipples, knowing exactly how she liked it.

Norrell’s hands had found their way back into her hair, and his hips were thrusting just slightly, urging her to go faster.  Arabella was about to comply with his wishes when she was forced to release him, as at that moment, Jonathan’s fingers pressed against her wet core, causing her to let out a wail.

“My dear,” her husband said in awe.  “You’re so wet!  You should feel how wet she is for us, my love.”

She had been so focused on her task that she hadn’t realised how wet, how aroused she was until Jonathan’s clever fingers rubbed against her clitoris.  Suddenly she was surging towards climax with ever deft stroke of his fingers.

“Don’t stop what you’re doing,” Jonathan said in a breathy rush.  “Take him back into your mouth.”

She did so but let out another cry when she felt Jonathan lift her nightdress and enter her from behind.

“Oh god, Jonathan,” she cried out, her face pressed against Norrell’s thigh.  Just a few short thrust had left her quite delirious.  She hadn’t quite anticipated how overwhelming she would find this experience.

“This isn’t quite working,” Jonathan said, his voice strained, as he pulled out of her.

Arabella was just about to say that it was working quite fine for her, thank you very much, when she became aware of the small hands on her head, stroking her hair like she was something precious.

“We’re leaving poor Norrell behind,” Jonathan said, gasping for breath.  “I have an idea.”

 

Jonathan took charge now, manoeuvring them all into position.  He stripped off Arabella’s nightshirt and finally divested Norrell of the rest of his clothes.  Then he pushed Arabella down onto her back and raised her hips with a couple of pillows.  He positioned Norrell on his knees between her spread legs and Jonathan was on his knees behind Norrell. 

“Comfortable?” Jonathan asked her. 

She raised an eyebrow.  “I feel ridiculous.” 

“But you look divine,” Jonathan assured her, and then pressed his lips to Norrell’s ear.  “Doesn’t she?” he asked the other man.

Norrell nodded, but seemed unable to speak.  He stared down at her, his eyes so ablaze that Arabella could swear they left hot trails across her skin as his gaze swept over her body.

“Now,” Jonathan said, and shuffled forward.  He took Norrell’s cock into to his hand and, after stroking the length of it a few times, positioned it at Arabella’s entrance.

Arabella groaned happily as his cock slid inside her.  Her hips were at the perfect height and, once he’d braced himself on the headboard, Norrell was able to thrust forward with ease.  The position of her body was a little awkward, but as the thrusts got stronger, more assured, she realised it was perfect, that his cock inside her was hitting her at just the right angle.

She let out a cry of astonishment and looked accusingly up at Jonathan, who had disappeared off somewhere and had just returned to bed, a small glass jar in his hand.

“You’ve had this worked out in your head for some time, haven’t you?” she said, trying to sound annoyed but failing, mostly because she kept breaking off to let out shuddering gasps of pleasure.  Jonathan just shrugged.  “Then you should’ve said something!”

“I didn’t think you’d want to do it,” Jonathan replied, opening the jar and scooping out some of the contents.

“You are quite impossible, Jonathan!”

“Stop arguing for heaven’s sake!” Norrell said.  His was voice thick with desire, but his tone was still irritated.  “And Jonathan, please, get on with it!” 

Jonathan paused briefly but then obeyed.  “See what I mean, you’re both bossy,” he murmured, just barely audible.  He pretended to be so annoyed, but his breathing was erratic and his hands were shaking with lust.

  

Arabella couldn’t see what Jonathan was doing, but whatever it was it made Norrell’s rhythm falter and his eyes roll back.  Jonathan was sucking at Norrell’s shoulder, biting at the flesh as his hands worked unseen by his wife.  

Eventually he placed his lips to Norrell’s ear, his hot breath making the other man shudder.  “Oh, you’re so ready for me,” he panted into his ear. 

“Yes,” Norrell ground out between clenched teeth.  “Please, do it.  Now, please.  I want you so much, please.” 

His desperate pleading set both Jonathan and Arabella aflame and Jonathan thrust forward roughly, making Norrell cry out in delight and Arabella inhale sharply at the force of it. 

Now, with every forward thrust Norrell was pushing inside Arabella, and with every retreat he was meeting Jonathan’s own thrust.  It took a moment for them to get it right, but soon they were picking up momentum and it felt so good, so good it was almost too much; like if it didn’t end soon one of them might actually explode from the sheer ecstasy of it. 

Arabella watched in fascination as her husband took the other man, something she had heard about once but thought distasteful.  She didn’t think that anymore as she watched Jonathan’s face contorted with pleasure; as she looked at Norrell, slack-jawed and flushed, completely lost in the duel sensations of Jonathan’s relentless thrusts inside him and his cock enveloped in her hot, tight quim.  God!  She had to close her eyes against the erotic sight of them. 

She wanted to come!  She was so close now!  The pressure inside her was building and building, but, frustratingly, orgasm seemed to be just out of reach.  She reached down to touch herself but Jonathan beat her to it, pressing his thumb against the nub between her legs, circling it with practiced ease.  She let out a wail as a white hot shaft of pleasure went through her, pushing her a little closer. 

A few more thrusts, hitting her just _so_ and…finally, finally, she could feel the wave begin to crest over her, and as much as she wanted it, ached for it, she cursed that it was all going to be over. 

And it hit her.  All thought abandoned her and she stiffened beneath them.  She dug her fingernails into the pillows under her hips and twitched as her core pulsated around the cock that was still pounding into her. 

“Oh god,” Norrell whispered at the very feel of it, and gripped the headboard so tightly that his fingers went white. 

Arabella looked up through bleary eyes just in time to see Norrell come apart between them.  He pushed hard inside her as he came; eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.  He looked so completely undone, such a wonderful sight, that Arabella, even after the own orgasm, felt a sympathetic pulse of desire go through her. 

Jonathan let out an urgent cry, held Norrell firmly by the waist and set up a brutal, pounding rhythm, chasing his own climax now.  The bed shook with the force of his thrusts and Norrell twitched and let out little whimpers; too sensitive after such a forceful orgasm. 

Arabella raised a weak arm and lovingly stroked Norrell’s face and hair, finding the greying curls damp with sweat.  She watched through heavy lids as Jonathan pressed his open, panting mouth against Norrell’s sweaty shoulder to muffle any sound he was about to make.  She reached out to Jonathan as well, touched his hand.  He held on to both of them like a lifeline as he lost himself in the bliss of his own completion.

“Oh, I do love you both,” she said, almost without thinking.

With a few last, violent thrusts, Jonathan sobbed out his pleasure into Norrell’s shoulder and finally stilled.

  

Jonathan released his hold on Norrell, and the smaller man fell forward, boneless.  Jonathan caught him up again just before he squashed Arabella, who was still lying beneath him at an awkward angle.

He deposited a sweaty and sated Norrell onto the pillow beside Arabella and then, removing the pillows from under her hips, scooped her up and kissed her.  He intended it to be an ardent, passionate kiss, but all passion was spent now.  Instead it was sloppy and tired.

They lay down, spooned together on the bed, Jonathan behind Arabella with a protective arm wrapped around her middle.  They were both facing Norrell, who was by then sound asleep and snoring softly into the pillow.

“I think we’ve worn him out,” Arabella tried to say, but the words were muffled by a huge yawn.

“Looks like we’ve all worn each other out,” Jonathan said, finding her yawn infectious.

Arabella smiled and reached over to brush the damp hair back from Norrell’s forehead.  He was so deeply asleep that the touch didn’t even make him stir.

“He looks very sweet,” Arabella said affectionately.

She could feel Jonathan’s smile against her shoulder blade.  “My dear, I think you have it as bad as I do.” 

“Not quite as bad as that,” Arabella replied.

She was on the edge of sleep when she heard Jonathan whisper ‘thank you’ into her ear.

“For giving you everything you ever wanted?” she asked, smiling. 

“And then some,” he said with a chuckle. 

Arabella yawned again and nuzzled further into the pillow beneath her.  “I knew I’d have to make the first move,” she said as was about to drift off to sleep.  “You two are both hopeless.”


End file.
